


A Prussian, an Austrian and a Frenchman all walk into a palace.

by SandmanUlix



Category: Historical fan cannon
Genre: F/M, Multi, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2020-07-25 13:16:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20026444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandmanUlix/pseuds/SandmanUlix
Summary: Frederick the Great, a prince highly controversial in Europe for his 'tastes', finds himself betrothed to possibly the most polar opposite person. Maria Theresa, a woman simply looking for a normal marriage must now somehow make a good christian monarch out of a man whose reputation as a deviant has reached even the court in Vienna. Will these two ever come to love and respect one another?





	1. The prince of rumor

The air was damp and chilling. The smell of the city wafted through the air, of hustle and bustle, of market wheat and perfumes, in general of life and all its features. On the stone road to the entrance, the graceful hooves of well-bred German horses flew above stone, barely making contact with the road in their graceful gallop. Proudly they pulled with them a chariot, looking part miniature estate and part colorful fantasy, with velvet stripes and gold tassels painted on the sides and myriads of ornate decorative little figures dancing across the top and bottoms of the vehicle. Inside a woman of similar stature and of similar nature sat by her window in a sort of unfamiliar condition, a bubbling dread which lent itself very well to anticipation and curiosity.  
This little girl, dressed in a pristine white dress, her dainty hands resting in the practiced position she had been taught, her powdered cheeks flushed a pale crimson, was more than she let on. For while her movements were practiced and almost dull in their uniform perfection, her mind was frayed and her heart was in a constant state of sinking and rising from the depths of her soul. She was royal, she knew. She had been raised with privileges no woman should have been allowed but that did not mean she could avoid her duties. She was royal. Being a woman of royal blood meant getting married to a prince of similar status, whenever the need arose and no matter the match. She was royal, and all that implied.  
It was absolutely intriguing feeling herself like this, she had always wanted to be married but now her overwhelming joy was being uprooted by a sort of fear and disgust of her future in this cold melancholic land. Her father had apparently handpicked her husband to make sure that peace would reign between their kingdoms. The choice was a pragmatic one and a great assurance for peace and stability in the future but one for which she still resented her father and his weak willed ways. He was still traveling even now, when peace had apparently been secured he still thought it prudent to get written confirmation of his realms future security.  
She sighed with defeat. This place was almost as cold and spirit crushingly dull as Russia, though the presence of sprawling urban life put it a bit above that land of savage Mongols and heathens, unable to understand even the most basic of human emotion. The carriage rode through the city with the intent of putting themselves on road to the grand secluded palace where the prince lived. She looked out the window in bewilderment at the men and women in the streets, haggling for prices, offering work or simply meandering about. She observed them with great interest for she had never met someone not of her faith especially not a heretic, though she still held her reservations about the poor uneducated wretches, she also thought of them as not as beastly as she had been told they were.  
They finally passed though the city gates and were now on the pass to the estate passing under the unending crown of the forest. Light barely reached them now, coming down as single beams which provided no assured visibility but a relaxing perhaps even otherworldly atmosphere. She sighed in tired defeat. ‘Perhaps it shall not be so bad.’ The thought was of little comfort but a positive outlook was something she desperately needed. Perhaps the rumors might prove false, as they did for those Protestants. In all likelihood, the prince is a caring man, as passionate about marriage as she was and would give her many heirs she would treasure. But above all he would treasure HER and never let his eye wander to some pretty French wench… or boy. ‘God save me if that proves true.’ She thought with indignation. Above all else she feared that last rumor the most. It was an almost infamous case of how the rumor of the crown prince being a complete pederast had started, a boy and his teacher running off together to England, in all likelihood to partake in unimaginably ungodly acts. Scandalous, simply scandalous. She would see for herself though, no rumor would be enough to scare her from a match which her father had so diligently worked on achieving.

The horses hooves beat in the ground a bit more loudly now, signaling that their arrival was now imminent. The princess had brought only the things she thought most important to take, her clothes and toilettes, a bible which she hoped to find comfort in if her stay were to sour and a vial of very strong liquor which one of her kin had pressed into her hands dubbing it ‘a love potion’, the intent for gifting it to the young princess she knew not. She rose from her seat when the blaring of trumpets signaled her to come out, the door opened and she descended gracefully down the steps. Immediately her eyes widened at the miracle of construction that lay before her: a perfect balance between Mother Nature’s careful placement of greenery, in this case grape vines which decorated the vineyard that encompassed the sides of the palace and presumably the back as well. This all was contrasted by the Rocco style of architecture which gave the palace a very theatrical almost fairy tale-like sense of bewildering majesty. All of this she noticed at once as she looked round the beautiful artwork, for that is how she saw it ‘Art’ in its purest form. While she stood there the prince had walked up to her and now stood only a few paces before her. He was sizing her up and down and coughed loudly to garner her attention. The princess immediately realized her blunder and offered a quick curtsy and an apology for her actions. The prince smiled sardonically as her accepted her apology with pomp and theatric arrogance meant to anger her, but when it didn’t he frowned and that was the first time she noticed the prince himself. He was taller than most of her entourage and seemingly loomed over her with his calculating dark blue eyes, the color of the ocean and just like the ocean hiding much underneath; his Prussian blue uniform fit his lean frame perfectly though he did not carry as many medals as she had been used to seeing on military men, though perhaps that was because of his young age; his hair blonde and glowing in the sunlight was left long enough to cover his ears and framed his face quite prettily, an oddity for the age as most men preferred the look of an older man, especially monarchs. All in all he cut a dashing figure, though she saw that his character left much to be desired. She did however see promise in him. She would make sure to make him into the epitome of a Catholic monarch in all but name, for that was in her blood, as a royal princes, a devout catholic, a future archduchess and most importantly a Habsburg.


	2. Frederick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frederick awakens in the morning craving his companions company, but then realizes that he himself has company in the form of another marriage offer. And from a catholic no less?

Awaken. The sound of infernal bells ringing in the distance, a fear reaching omen of the crushing dread of the lives of mortals which haunted his mornings in preparation for the day ahead. It’s only goal to crush the spirits of all who presumed to face life with any sort of purpose in their actions. The damned, confounded sound which gave a dull ring to every inch of his body, its effects were absolute. The prince had considered if pushing for greater education for the peasants would somehow dim their faith in the church and perhaps weed out these abhorrently offensive practices, a true miracle and in true keeping with the contradictions of the world. How absolutely wondrous would that be? And if not it could serve as a nice little talking point for the next time he saw his beloved thinker. Oh if that gentle spirit, cut of the same cloth as royalty but separated in birth from a just fate which would have joined their two spirits together as one, if their wit and insight had a chance to shine through on this morning it might have been tolerable. But alas worlds apart and separated by nature and state alike, they would only be occasional visitors in one another’s bedside. Then again perhaps they could see each other today, with the many visitors gathering in the town and the bells ringing on the lords’ day… Oh son of a whore! “DAMN IT ALL TO HELL! THE BLASTED CATHOLIC IS HERE!”

The shout echoed through the halls, shaking sets of iron armor with its pure indignation and partial petulance, but most of all terrifying the servants who were quick to scramble from the halls and hide in the kitchen where they hoped to avoid the princes foul mood. Said prince walked the halls in a daze of rage, confusion and most of all annoyance at the amount of work which lay before him in just a few hours, he haphazardly put on a uniform and a hat in hope of looking at least semi presentable, even if he felt he was missing something, he felt somehow “nude” but these days that was a regular feeling for the prince. The servants had to be organized, the banquet hall readied and the food prepared. The prince was not however one to lose his bearing and as he knew that in all likelihood the Catholics would not bother to ask for direction he would have all the time he needed, yes, for that was in the nature of those fools to only stay with what is familiar, terrified of the unknown. Good lord, how he dreaded having to spend an entire day with another puffed up porcelain doll, worse off one with no sense for knowledge of any kind and in all likelihood a disdain for civil discussion. Honestly if the last dozen were anything to go by, all this effort would be wasted, if he even bothered to make any. ‘Well then, a bit of leisure in the garden with a nice local wine would soothe my nerve for the trials ahead’ 

The young prince waltzed out the doors of the palace and had begun a slow descent down the stairs on his way to the gardens when he was startled by a truly terrible sight. In the distance the sight of two large horses pulling an even larger, grotesquely colored carriage. The shock went straight to his head like a lead bullet through his brain. He scrambled to get back away but realized he had already been seen by the coachman and so could not back away. The prince calmed himself with a reassuring phrase “It’s only for one day.” Which he repeated until he had finally calmed down. He finally made his way down the stairs straightened his back and waited to be presented with the latest challenger, as he so deemed fit to call these potential “brides”. He saw a servant scrambling by and immediately grabbed him by the collar instructing him to prepare the halls for the arriving party. The prince turned around and walked up to the carriage from which had exited yet another tarted up doll sent to gawk at the pretty buildings and fineries of high living. But to his surprise as the prince observed the woman’s face a bit closer, he saw recognition and a sharp sense of intelligence in those eyes.

‘Perhaps this one might not bore me too badly.’ 

He thought as he stared at her wandering gaze with a bemused if slightly snarky expression. He coughed lightly into his fist to draw her attention doing so almost immediately, the girl lowered her expression slightly before curtsying.

“I apologize for my rudeness. It is the first time I have had the chance to encounter the Rococo style outside my lessons.” 

She said with her face still firmly pointed to the ground in a sharp angle. The prince smiled again and waved her off.

“Worry not dear girl. Had I ever been presented with such beauty for the first time I would have probably gawked plenty myself.”

He resisted the urge to snort when he saw her expression as she raised her head, the puffed up cheeks and red tint on them portrayed her embarrassment quite prettily. He noticed her sharp gaze had turned upon him and finally noticed why he had felt naked this entire morning. His medals were not on his person, his wig was nowhere to be seen and he looked more a bandit, albeit a very dashing bandit, than a prince of a country.

He still kept up his façade and motioned for his guest to follow him to the gardens to enjoy a glass of wine or two. He still had appearances to keep up and his guest’s sharp eyes and thoughtful gaze had him on his toes for the first time in a long while. But it was not in his style to be outdone by anyone nor let his name ring hollow for anyone, he was prince of Prussia after all and the greatest ruler since its founding. No one could ever day say without pride the name Frederick von Hohenzollern.


	3. Fortunes unite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mayday to all. I am happy to be rid of this obligation finally.

Chapter 3

The winds sung their foreboding autumn verses with much aplomb, they banged on every corner of every brick in every house. But only on that great Northern estate, decorated with such care and love by generations of workers and architects did they deliver the worst of their punishment, pushing against its serenity with their discontented wails of petulance.  
Inside a similar atmosphere, one not dissimilar to that of two hurricanes on a collision course divinely ordained reigned with only cold Machiavellian calculation to keep it from tearing all within asunder. The two royals kept such vicious winds in their souls kept back only by their feather delicate tempers and a sense of duty to not bring shame to their own persons and family lines. Such is the pride of royalty, that whichever fate is brought before them they bear it in stride for the sake of their precious pomposity.

The extent of his anger and discontentment had carved a crude barbarous effigy of a human out of the great philosopher prince. His palms were set ablaze by the boiling hate for his fate as a royal, the hate which flowed a clear crimson through his body, visible to every onlooker with enough sense to look. His agile body was set crooked compared to his previous prideful statuesque like stature, his posture was bent to the side leaning on oak and cotton wrapped in silk and his arm was supported the weight of his heavy ill-intentioned thoughts which he stacked one on the other. His neck bent forward slightly his eyes sizing up the woman, nay the little girl, in front of him. He reigned in the less flattering titles he wished to bestow upon her and settled for a light jab at her womanhood. Not unfair an assessment as she was much too inexperienced to have the presence typical of the fairer sex matured to a level of good sense and etiquette.

Their conversation had begun an hour before, as s such it might seem a tad bit surprising the speed at which it had apparently deteriorated. But nay, it had not taken an hour nor even a second for the conversation between the two monarchs to reach this sort of stalemate, as it had never even begun properly. A single word, said in passing without even the tiniest fraction of care given to it, was all that had been necessary to create a chilled atmosphere between the two future monarchs.  
They had been passing through the vineyards, with nary a word passing between them as they sipped on their wine and walked briskly along the stone walkway, eager to get inside with the gathering clouds on the horizon.

The Prince, wishing to ignite some sort of conversation as to lessen the dull atmosphere thought to breach his favorite subject upon the small heiress to the greatest empire in Europe. His love of philosophy meant he had an endless repertoire of authors he could discuss but he settled to mention his favorite and most admired author, Voltaire. He coughed into his fist, drawing the princess’s attention as she looked a t him puzzled. He smiled at her and asked.  
“So, dear heiress might I inquire whether you have heard of the famous French author Voltaire?”  
“Oh, Jesus forbid, no! I would never be caught dead reading a single word from that pederast!”

The rage. The absolute irrational feelings of resentment he felt for that stain upon his time as a human being was not something which words could do justice. Simmering just below his cold visage, a raging storm banged against his chest guiding every single drop of bile in his being to his throat, threatening to burst forth in a torrent of verbal brutality. But as a testament to the nature of fate, the only words to come out the young princes words were a half assed excuse, used only to mask his retreat so he could hide in his quarters until his nerves had calmed and he would not risk war with another country because of his words.

“I must excuse myself for a moment, Miss, I have forgotten to make preparations for our dinner. Carry on without me for a while.”

With his back turned to her, the crown prince was now free to express the true depths of his loathing in his pretty visage. However, to the future empress this whole meeting was going rather swimmingly if she was allowed to say so! Why, she was so convinced of her successes and so affected by her good humor that she decided to try sealing the deal right then and there. Now, of course she couldn’t very well make the first move like some sort of courtesan! No, it would be the Prussian princes’ greatest honor to claim that he seduced the daughter of the emperor of the Germans. But for all his pomp Theresa could see that the prince was a shy man, and he needed just a little push. And a push she would provide as she took the so called “Love potion” from her bosom and dropped first a few drops into the wine, then a few more for good measure and then the whole thing just so that there was nothing left to chance. 

A few choice moments later, the two monarchs would again come into contact in the kings very own drawing room. There, on his desk lay large stacks of sheet music tailored to the kings’ instrument of choice. The rooms’ elegant and tasteful decorations melded together in a picture of pure elegance and high culture. Within the room the prince paced around with unease and confusion. He had never felt such shame before, never had his pride been damaged so. That papist had not only slandered his most favored lover, but in an indirect manner had also insulted him. Who was she to know of matters of the flesh and to dismiss a great thinker such as his love merely for his preferences!? How the prince wished to shame her and show her how terribly she had erred with her comment. Had she been a more comely youth he would have shown her what true pleasure was like and then left her there to wallow in her newfound sense of inadequacy. Alas he would have to settle for kicking the powdered up dwarf out from his palace after giving her a few choice words that showed just what he thought of the pompous heiress. He found himself in desperate need of something to calm his nerves. Most likely he would order for a glass of wine when the heiress came to the room, as to ease the process for both.

Said heiress was making her way towards the room in very good spirits. Confidence soaring and assured in her feminine wiles she bid a servant bring the cups of wine with her while another announced her arrival. She was escorted into the room without much pomp, far less than was customary at least. The two royals sat across from one another with wine glasses in hand. The prince having desperately sought a drink for over an hour, downed the glass in few gulps. Then silence reigned once again. The heiress awaited the prince to declare his undying devotion for her and ask for her hand in marriage, as she assumed he was planning on. The prince on the other hand, was going through the ride of his life. Whatever was in that glass was not just wine, hell it couldn’t even be just alcohol. The prince was acquainted with alcohol, be it its desired or undesired effects upon the human body. This was unlike anything he had ever felt. There was a dizziness and a warmth, sure that was to be expected even if the room seemed to be spinning more than it usually did after a strong spirit, hell even that papist wench looked somehow more inviting in the afternoon embers with her soft pink lips, and those innocent doe eyes of hers. But this warmth in his loins, this ache he never felt even around the love of his life was simply confounding. But the room kept spinning and the colors kept melting together so the prince found himself getting up from his chair and sauntering over to the heiress. 

“You know…Maria, I hope you don’t mind me calling you that. Maria, I must say you are certainly something else.” The prince growled out in voice he heard as menacing but which, to anyone not currently too drunk to stand, simply sounded wanting if a bit whiny. The future empress listened to the comment with a bit of shock but knew that this was her time to play her cards right. ‘Mother, I pray you and the lord might forgive me for the sins I might have to commit. It is for our house after all.’

“No my prince, I do not mind at all. But you flatter me too much with your kind words, I am undeserving of them.”

“Oh, no sweet, dear Maria you deserve much more than this. Never have I had the occasion to meet a woman such as you, with such strong convictions and beliefs. Why! You could give the leaders of the enlightenment a run for their money I would wager!” The prince tried to lace his words with as much sarcasm as his German soul could muster, but unfortunately for Germans, sarcasm is already as foreign a language as Greek and with his wits dulled as they were by wine, the princes sarcasm came out sounding much too honest.

“My prince. You try to lure me with your sweet words, as if to make me drop my guard in order to seize my heart with your deft hands. You try too much though, I was smitten with you the moment I laid my eyes upon your perfect smile.” The heiress said as she made her move. She grabbed both sides of the princes’ head and pulled him in for a deep and passionate kiss. With heat burning like the holy fury of her forefathers who smashed the Turks at Vienna and stomped on the throat of the protestant reformation. Her inexperienced tongue found itself overwhelmed by the older and more experienced Prussian prince, whose indignation and drunken stupor had mixed to create a strange sort of sensation bordering between pure lust and complete disgust. They breathed heavily as their tongues melted into one another’s’ mouths, much like the way the many foreign Slavic and Latin cultures of western and Eastern Europe melted together within the Holy Roman Empire. Their position was awkward with the shorter heiress being seated on the soft armchair, her hands grabbing the neck of the prince who was bent over into a deep genuflect. His hands had begun stroking her thigh through her dress, finger delicately caressing her skin through the fabric as he pulled away for a quick second to bite on the heiresses soft lower lip. The young maiden gasped out, feeling a storm of new and unknown feelings brewing in her heart.

The Teutonic royal seizing upon his chance, scooped up the princess and lay her on his soft bed. He was upon her once more, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as his hands made to untangle the Gordian knot of fabric that was her dress. His lips pressed against her neck, his hot breath making her shiver. This was all so overwhelming for the princess, but she knew she couldn’t just lay back like a dead herring so she made her way through the princes’ clothes. First removing his shirt and then his pants until the both of them were in their undergarments, admiring one another through their respective drunken hazes.

The prince was ravenous now, as if something within his cold calculating mind had switched off and all that was left was lustful desire. He took her undergarments, white cotton things that they were much like the national flag of France, and slipped them off like how the Spanish empire had slipped from the Habsburg domain. Once they were around her ankles and finally in his hands did he finally care to gaze upon her, upon her womanhood. He was like a virgin then, silent in his stupor as he gazed upon her rose. He was enraptured but finally lifting his face to see the princess blushing red, he realized how brutish he was being. Staring at someone in this state, almost judging them, he felt like a lowlife then. 

He quickly got over his fear and drew upon the experience he had gained by sitting in taverns and listening to the locals’ gossip and make many a bawdy comment about their love lives. He dove between her soft thighs, pale and somehow softer than even the softest of cotton. He felt himself grow comfortable before he made to explore the future empresses’ imperial rose-garden. She was a prudent one, having trimmed much of the unnecessary bush, giving the prince enough confidence to immediately begin his tentative oral exploration. He was gentle, overtly so but grew bolder with every kiss, with every lick that made her majesty gasp and shudder and suddenly he was caught up in a rhythm. Suddenly he could no longer feel the pounding in his chest and the ringing in his ears, all he could hear and all he could feel was that princess who held his head so tenderly. Her voice was all he heard, her shudders, all he felt and her pleasure, the only thing of import to him. 

They stayed like that for a while, smooth and steady rhythm guiding them together, the prince was now in his element as his tongue moved masterfully as if reciting a Lutherian chorale. He wouldn’t have ever guessed how useful that drab religious music would be, especially not in this sort of situation. But lo and behold, for every note he mouthed with his tongue, the princess would buck and whimper and scoot forward to press herself against him. 

‘Religious to a fault, this one.’ He thought dryly.

Soon enough his ministrations had borne fruit as the future arch duchess let out a shrill scream as she came. The prince made sure to keep himself in place and accompany her through this sensation until it finally passed. 

The prince finally saw that she was as ready as she would ever be. He got up, pulled down his undergarments to reveal his hard manhood, pulsing red with desire. Now it was the princesses turn to stare and marvel, as her hand reached out to touch the long staff. The prince did not stop her though he was still a tad embarrassed by her fixated stare, though that did nothing to dampen the blazing fire which this devilish seductress had lit in his loins. His gaze was unreadable, but upon feeling her soft, delicate hand grip the base of his shaft, he let out a low moan snapping the princess out of her stupor. Embarrassed by her conduct, she got up on the bed once more, lay on a few soft pillows and spread her legs open before she told the prince, with a voice shy, but also full of desire.

“Come my dear Prince, let us seal our union and create an everlasting memory of our love for one another.”

The prince, now full of desire himself, could not bear to hold back any longer. He went between her legs and with deft hands, he made sure that the princess got accustomed to his size. First by using his two fingers, then by rubbing his scepters tip onto her lips. Slowly he pushed deep inside her, stopping occasionally to ask if the princess if she wished him to stop, only to be told to keep going. Soon enough he had reached the base of his shaft and could descend no longer. He looked into her face then, her young, beautiful face. With eyes a cloudy blue, they reminded him of a storm cloud, and a pair of lips painted pink and red by her efforts to not worry her partner. He kissed her then, deep and passionate and the stayed that way for what seemed like the longest time. Then they shared a look before the prince pulled back and began slowly exploring his new lover, with slow strokes as he gyrated his hips in an effort to reach every part of her that he could. His slow methodical approach bore fruit as he found a spot which made her gasp aloud with pleasure each time his scepter brushed against it. The prince was reaching his limit soon and so sped up his thrusts, making sure to aim for the same spot each time, making sure his mouth was never idle as he either kissed his lover, bit her lips lightly or whispered in her ear how wonderful she felt. 

The princess suddenly bit into his shoulder in an attempt to somewhat stifle her scream as she came once more. Feeling her lover pulsing inside her, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him towards her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. They came in unison, basking in the afterglow of their orgasm in one another’s arms. They slept the night away with sweet words and loving kisses. And in a few weeks-time they would joined forever in joyous matrimony.  
When the sun rose upon a new day, the world would be changed forever. By a union that would shake the very foundations of Europe, the foundations of the modern world. But that is a story, for another time.

**Author's Note:**

> Might include Voltaire in a chapter. Mostly it's just there to say 'Yes, I know he is gay. I do not care.'


End file.
